Shattered
by ElegantFantasies
Summary: Years pass and Violet still struggles with the presence of Tate. And then in moves Gabe Langdon and her brother Michael Langdon, infamous son of Tate. Gabe is something new, fresh, and might be just what Violet needs to get over her mother's rapist, but there's a few lttle problems with this scenario... (AHS Season 1, there was a few changes but it sticks mostly to the story) xo El
1. Chapter 1

Being dead had never been my plan of action for the future. I was supposed to go through high school as the bad ass bitch when I hit Senior Year. All eyes on me, no one daring to mess with Bad Bitch Violet. And then with my killer GPA, I was going to attend Harvard for Dad's sake, get a PhD in something that "mattered", but didn't really matter. Not to me, anyway. Just something to frame so the Old Man would glimmer with pride.

But I'd also meet a boy. A man. Someone who would take me away from the Hell Hole world I lived in. Picture Perfect bullshit that only idiots bought into. And he'd be different. Passionate, caring, and the sex would be phenomenal. Late night bouts of furiously heated fucks that would have us both reeling.

I had seen it a million times in my head. He'd never have a face in my day dreams, just some random handsome features I saw on the screen from time to time when mom sat on the couch to enjoy her soaps and I had nothing better to do but curl on the other end and stare blankly at the screen as Josh rammed the Girl's Soccer Leader while his girlfriend Monica was having an abortion and his mother an affair with his biology teacher. Text book basic Shit.

But now I was dead. The day dreams never stopped, but now the man had a face... and hair.. and a smile that was so beautifully haunted that I wanted nothing more than to kiss that grief away. blonde curls and black sorrowful eyes that seemed to leak fountains of tears constantly.

I could feel the ghost of his fingertips on my skin. So warm. Running over me as we curled on my bed. Could feel his hot breath against my throat.

"Oh Tate," I whisper to myself, because I know he's not here. I had told him good bye. He had killed so many, raped my mother and I still couldn't get him out of my head. When I looked at him, I felt a mixture of nausea and longing. More latter than formal and I suppose that made me sick. I didn't think it was possible for ghosts to want someone the way I wanted Tate and, _man_, with my eyes closed and my hands running over my body, did I want Tate. I ached for him. I needed him... and I could never have him without wanting to kill myself all over again.

Someone began to caress my brown locks softly, causing my eyes to flutter, but I didn't want to open them. I knew who it was.

"You called?" He whispered, the husk in his voice driving shivers up my spine. Oh, he made being dead so very hard.

"Go away, Tate," I whisper back, my eyes still closed, but hands frozen in place, one resting embarrassingly on my breast, the other on my abdomen.

"But you called for me," He said, his voice going a little higher in the constant distress he seemed to always be in. "You said my name. I'm here Violet!" I feel the bed sink on one side and I open my eyes to his pale distraught face so close to mine. I could almost taste him. I could.. I really could and he'd be okay again. Wouldn't look so miserable. I felt my heart squeeze at the sight of him. So sad. So sad...

He hovered over me, studying my face like it held the answers to getting out of this damn house.

"I'm here now! I'll always be here for you.." He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine. I could feel his body trembling. For fear of rejection? Or with want just as strong as mine was for him? I needed him. I needed to touch him. My fingers twitched.

"Good bye, Tate," I murmur, wanting to close my eyes, but his endless blacks get in the way. I cant even blink. So beautiful and shiny with new tears.

" You don't want that," He says, the tears sliding down his neck. "You called for me- you don't mean that. I love you, Violet." And he kissed me.

And I exploded.

**Tune in next time for all the nice details. R and R if it pleases... and it does. It pleases me. Just tell me what you think and whether I should keep it up. **

**xo El**


	2. Chapter 2

They made me sick. All of them. He was mine! He was mine! I had him all to myself and then- Agh!

We were meant to be together, you know? Written in the stars, he said. Did he say that? Of course he did. Or he believes it. He has to! He has to believe it. He just needs a reminder. That's all... He needs to remember what it feels like to hold me. To be close to me. But how do I do that with Vivian there? She's dead after all... I can't exactly off her. Can I?

No, I don't think so.. But destroying her trust in her husband has always been easy.

I watch silently as the blonde pussy boy kisses his dead girlfriend. I wonder if he'd kiss her like that if she looked like her carcass buried in the basement. Even pretty girls look ugly dead. I feel my head tilt slowly to the side, my face morphing into heart broken despair. I feel my eyes prickle with tears. Ben had kissed me like that... hadn't he? Of course he had..

He had loved me like the boy loved Violet. I know it.

All I needed was a baby and even that was taken from me by that bitch, Constance. The stupid whore hag and her play thing. I turn from their moment to pace the hall in font of the bedroom. How was it fair? Everybody had somebody. God! Even the hanky panky maid had tongues wagging out of their mouths for her when she marched by and she looked like something you'd see at a retirement home. _Welcome to my humble abode. We can screw, just watch the Bed Pan._ I chuckle to myself and can't stop. Why can't I stop?

I'm somebody! I matter!

"I _matter_, Ben," I had said. I say it again aloud.

"I _matter, _Ben!" _I matter!_

"Oh, honey," a voice said, and I snap over to see one of the fairies, the dark haired one, leaning against a wall, watching me as if I were some sad puppy. "No one matters here. Not me, not Ben, and certainly not you." He walks toward me, slowly, a sassy smirk on his lips. "You're the Whore, the one night stand. The home wrecker. Sluts like you will never matter, dead or alive." His eyes are bitter and I remember his blonde partner. The one with the freaky fetish.

"Ohhh," I whisper, slyly. "Oh, I get it. Your man sucks off every freaky rainbow he comes by and you just can't stand to see someone like me, the other woman, whisk away a man who has fallen in love with her." I smile sweetly. "it irks you, doesn't it? Because it can happen to yours the moment another pretty diva struts his stuff in this house." I wink at him and his face is grim.

"He doesn't love you-"

"Oh, he does," I interrupt, my voice low and dangerous. "He always has. He just has to be reminded is all." I turn to walk away.

"You're insane, Hayden," He says, his voice wavering and I glance back over my shoulder to look at him. His arms are crossed over his chest and his jaw is set, fresh tears pooled in his eyes. What was I with crying in this damn house? Everybody did it.

"No. I'm just dead."

"Hey, little man," Travis cooed to the shadows in the attic. The sounds of rattling chains echo back to him and a grunt of sheer joy welcomes the man's presence. A ball, just big enough to fit in the palm of his tan hand rolls across the hard wood floor silently. Travis breaks into his signature sweet, disarming smile. "Wanna' play? Is that what you want? Alright." He sits cross legged on the ground,the ball in his hand. He rolls it across the floor, back into the shadows and a gusting, hoarse laugh fills the air. So innocent. Kind and unjudging. Joyful.

"So Hugo," Travis begins. "I gotta tell ya. You're mom is really drivin' me up a wall here. How long has it been since she last came to see us?" he thought. Since he'd last given her the baby, she disappeared for about three years, though time honestly didn't affect him. It could've been yesterday or thirty years ago for all he knew. Then she came back after those years, left and came back after another five, and then another. Looking more weathered and drawn, but still just as beautiful. He was pretty sure another four had passed based on the news the other family had bought in before Vivien and Ben scared them of with their ghost antics. Mostly they had been successful, except for the toddler one of the twins got a hold of a few years back. Cute little kid. He was off playing with the girls and Elizabeth Short.

Hugo just grunted, less enthusiastically.

"I know. I'm being a buzzkill, but when she comes back and sees us, I'm sure she'll stay," he murmured. "She misses us, I bet." She better, because I miss her, Travis said to himself, a little bitterly. He loved Constance. Very much. When she came again, he'd make sure she stayed. The ball rolled back to him.

_I exploded._

Every inch of my dead body needed Tate closer. I needed Tate... and there he was. Like he always was. His hands slid up my abdomen, under my shirt, caressing the skin. Caressing me. Across the wire of my bra... and then under it.

I gasp for him because, shit, that felt good. My thighs rub together to put friction where I needed it most and then his other hand was there. So in tune with me. He cupped my sweet spot through my tights and applied pressure, making me squirm in want. How could you be horny when you were dead? But then again, you could get someone pregnant.

The thought made me freeze and, as I made clear before, Tate was in tune with me. He sensed my change and pulled back, his hands retracting slowly, leaving trails of fire and ice, hurt and desire.

"You're still mad at me," he whispered, heart broken, inches from my face, his lips red from the kisses we just shared. I kissed my mother's rapist. Shit, I loved my mother's rapist.

"You did some bad things, Tate," I whisper back, my voice shuddering. Very bad things, and I still wanted him. I was sick. Was it possible for a ghost to be sick? Tate was. Tate was a monster... except the way he was looking at me, like I was his sole reason, and the one to shatter his world, he didn't seem very monstrous at all.

"Go Away, Tate," I whisper again, my eyes stinging with tears, my voice thick with sorrow. "Go away."

His lips quiver and his face puckers.

"Do you mean it this time?" He asks, followed by a wrenching sob.

"Go away," I say again, my voice a fraction louder, my eyes shut. Rapist, murderer.. Lover, Friend.

"Violet.."

"Go away.." Liar, cheat.. safety, Home..

"I love you..."

"Go _away," _I cry.

Silence. I open my eyes to an empty room. I curl into the fetal position and I cry silently.

**Soooooo, yeah. I would really enjoy some reviews. Ways to improve, what to keep. Nice feedback. **

**Thank you to those that did review on the first chapter. Appreciate you. **

**xo El**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am always a delayed sort of person. But, forgive me. I have decided that I will not update without reviews after this next chapter. I want to know if I'm doing alright, you know? Some good little feedback. **

And I was back. The house leaned over me, with its dark stories shining from its windows like magnets, pulling me in. God, I loved this house. It was mine after all. My children were in it, my man was here. If only I had pulled her to the safety of its gates before she...

My regret pinned me for a split second, my foot hovering at the very first step.

"What's up, mom?" Michael asked and his brother Gabriel looked at me expectantly. I liked to believe Mikey gave a rat's ass, but I was no fool. He was just like his father. Gabriel, on the other hand, was just like _his _father. One hundred percent mesmerized by what I was feeling, what I was thinking. Poor bastard.

"Nothing Gabe," I said and Michael shrugged, looking back at the house. "Mikey-"Gabe looks back up in acknowledgement. "Gabe-" Mikey does not. "Welcome home."

I walk up the steps and open the door to he smell of dust and old furniture. Beauregard was there immediately, his hideous disfigured face grinning at me so widely I was sure it would crack.

"Now Beau!" I exclaim, loving pouring out of me for my ugly child. "Did you miss your momma?" Gabriel gave a sharp gasp, almost a scream. "Gabe-" I look at Mikey. "and Mikey-" I look at the horrified Gabe. "say hi to your uncle Beauregard." Gabe could never stomach looking at my first born.

Vivian appeared out of nowhere, wild ginger hair flying and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. She was persistent at trying to tell the boys apart each time they arrive. You'd think a woman would know her own child, but Gabe was Mikey's doppelganger for one very important reason. Mikey was like his father. A killer. And a damn good one.

"Michael?" Vivian asked, eyes wide and searching as she took in the two boys. Gabe smiled at the woman and her returning smile was warm, loving. "my boy..." I wanted to scoff. She couldn't even tell her own children apart. Well, couldn't even recognize her own child. Of course, she had no idea because I hadn't told her. I hadn't even told the boys.

But Mikey always seemed to know. He was smart, smarter than most wise men, even at the age of seventeen.

* * *

><p>I could smell she was dead. They all were. That hideous beast that lumbered the house and occupied the attic until mother made her appearance and the pretty girl at the top of the steps, looking down with a small sad smile playing on her lips, all dead. Especially the shadow over her shoulder, eyes trained on her face. He was far more dead than the most because his soul was nearly dead. I could see how the edges of his appearance seemed to slightly fade in and out. Yet, he was the most alive. The most one with the house, so his center pulsed with a maroon sort of light, the color shining out behind his black eyes.<p>

_Hello, Dad. _I thought sarcastically.

I smiled at the woman with a voice as soft as rain. She was quite something. Her paranormal was like a beacon, pulsing with the power of the house.

Trapped in the very thing that could unleash them and they had no idea. It would be easy to tell them, no doubt. It wasn't a hard process, but then I'd have to use other means to get what I wanted. No. The house had to stay in place, and that meant the wayward souls inside.

My eyes shifted back up to the girl, but she was gone, and my father along with her. That must have been Violet, my half sister. Mm, just as pretty as I remembered her. I grinned at the empty stairs.

Time to set the game in motion.

* * *

><p>I looked over at my brother, his grin wicked as he looked to the stairs, and sighed internally. Here he was, about to start his shit all over again, and we'd have to move again. I looked to Constance, who watched Mikey just as intently as I did, her face a mask of confusion so I assume Mikey stuck to the plan and told her nothing.<p>

Playing Constance's own game against her was a dangerous one, but I knew Mikey could handle it- just like he handled that nanny, and nurse, and a whole other list of names that got too close or got in his way.

Only difference is the one he was after couldn't be killed. They were already dead.

* * *

><p>I looked at Gabe, curiously. He was a spitting image of Mikey and I gave the blonde bitch serious props.<p>

He was tall, platinum, eyes so big and blue, you could swim in them like the ocean, and he was smiling kindly at my mother.

His smile was something else. One hundred percent genuine happiness. No scars, no hurt. Carefree and gentle and my oh my. Was Gabe handsome.

Probably shouldn't have thought that sense he was, after all, the exact replica of my brother, michael. But I couldn't help it. He looked so powerful, and strong. so very strong.

But I'd watched him grow up just like Mikey. He was three and then he was six and then twelve and now... now he was seventeen. A year older than me, technically. I turned away from the stairs, quickly. I was disgusting. What the hell was wrong with me? You don't gravitate toward someone who was practically your baby brother.

Shaking my head, I made my way back to my room.

And shut the door firmly.

**Have I confused you? Good. That was my very intention!**

**Review or no more, sorry it's so short, but you saw the need of the chapter. **

**xoxoxo El**


	4. Chapter 4

**Questions Questions Questions. **

**My Loves. I know that you are confused. That, my Love Muffins, was my exact intention. **

**"Why is Gabe Mikey and Mikey Gabe?" You'll have to wait and see, It'll all be revealed in due time. **

**So hold your horses, they're making me nervous. **

Staring in the mirror never made me happy. It just reminded me that I should be 33 right now. I should have a house and a job and maybe a husband and a kid. I should be maybe going trough a tough divorce right now and we're settling terms or some stupid shit like that. I should be living.

But I'm still dead.

I lean closer to the mirror and wrinkle my brow to cause indents in my forehead, trying to make my face look older.

I bite my lips to try and rush in color. Why couldn't I have died at a more attractive age? Like nineteen?

I'd have bigger boobs and maybe even an ass. I wouldn't look so damn gawky.

A knock came on the open door to the bathroom and I jumped.

"You're not worried about pimples are you," a boy chuckled and looking through the mirror, I saw it was Gabe... or was it Mikey..? He sent me a blinding smile and my eyes dropped immediately to the porcelain sink. "Because, I have to tell you, that's virtually impossible." My brow furrowed involuntarily now. I turned to face him, folding my arms.

"Why's that?" I asked. His big blue eyes widened a fraction, I suppose he hadn't been expecting an answer and certainly not a challenging one.

"Violet," he said, grinning. "You've been exactly the same for as long as I can remember. You're never going to change because... well because-"

"Because I'm dead," I said, matter of fact. "I'm dead." I watched him, gouging his reaction to my reaction of his less than sensitive observation. He just kept smiling.

"Well, I think you look very good for a dead girl." I felt my mouth tugging into a smile before I could control it. It had to be Gabe, right? Because Mikey wouldn't say something like that to his sister. Unless it was all innocent. Then I supposed Mikey would say something like that.

"Which one are you, anyway?" I asked. He laughed and I grinned in response.

"I'm Gabe," He replied, his hand perched on the door knob, supporting some of his weight. Where was that stance so familiar?

* * *

><p>I walked down the hall, whistling with my hands in my pockets when I heard a high feather light voice from the kitchen. Curious, I rounded the corner and stopped cold.<p>

She was a babe. An utter, jizz in my pants, ruby haired, blue eyed, long legged babe. The Maid Costume she wore ended at the very edge of her butt, which revealed, as she bent over the counter, the black lacy underwear covering the flesh of her round bottom. Holy shit.

The knee high stockings clung to the curve of her thighs and the heat that boiled over in my stomach as enough to kill a man. I was practically panting.

What had happened to the old maid? Had she croaked? Was it even possible for someone who already croaked to croak. Did I say that out loud? I must've because she was turning to look at me, revealing a sinfully elegant neck that dropped down to luscious boobs, barely covered by the edge of the outfit and a more than revealing black bra.

"Ooh," she murmured- or moaned- I couldn't tell. "Who are you?" Her thin small hand reached up to tug gently on her own ear before trailing down her pretty neck, resting on the top of her breast.

"G-Gabe," I stuttered, before clearing my throat. "My name's Gabe." I hesitated. "Did you- are you dead too?" She smiled at e a kind of smile that had a tint being pitched in the front of my pants. She drug her pearly teeth across her red bottom lip and I felt my jaw go slack.

She advanced on me slowly, running her hands down the front of her body. She cam so close, I could smell her enticing perfume waft to my nose and he heat of her body radiate against me. Her abdomen brushed against my tip through my jeans and I clenched my jaw.

"Do I... feel dead to you... Gabe?" I could only shake my head. Nope- No ma'am. She pressed closer, the pressure against my dick making my knees go weak.

On their own accord, my hands trailed up the back of her legs, cupping her butt in my hands, which shook embarrassingly. The heat was heavenly and I pulled her closer, my heart stuttering when I heard the slight moan this elicited.

* * *

><p>I held my son against my chest, his coos gentle and lulling as watched Viv pace silently. Her breathing was off and the baby began to sense his mother's distress. His tiny face scrunched up, big blue eyes filling with tears. His cry was slow at first, choppy, until full wails left his tiny mouth. I bounced him gently but it wouldn't do.<p>

My wife turned absentmindedly to me and took Abel from my arms, pressing him against her shoulder.

"_Hush Little Baby, don't you cry_

_Momma's gonna sing you a lullaby."_

I watched her tensely as she strode around the room, bouncing him gently against her shoulder, patting his bottom lovingly.

"What's got you worried, Viv?" I asked. She looked at me, blowing her hair out of her face.

_"Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird_

_And if that mocking bird don't sing_

_Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring."_

She was ignoring me and I had an ill feeling about why. Wives didn't ignore their husband unless it was something they deemed serious and being dead had made a lot of things very serious. Especially being dead with my ex-mistress. I hadn't done anything, I was sure. Hadn't I ignored Hayden for years? Didn't I leave everything behind, including Hayden, to come here? For us? For our life?

The thoughts stopped short as I realized what an awful choice it was. What kind of man was I that I couldn't protect my family?

The song came to an end and Abel was resting, his little eyes closed and his tiny fists opening and closing gently.

"Gabriel and Micheal have me worried," She whispered.

When I asked her why, she looked at me like I hadn't been paying attention.

"Look at them! Spitting images of each other, so close they could be identical twins," She murmured. "What is that evil wretch up to.." I felt exasperation well up inside of me.

"C'mon,Babe, just be happy they're here with us," I said. "Not everything is a plot."

She pouted but kept her next words to herself.

**To answer more questions: Micheal's name is really the name of Tate's son. All the other children like Gabe, Abel, and an upcoming one, al have fictional names. ENJOY!**

**xoxoxo El**


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